The Cycle of Life
by RipperGiles
Summary: A very young Gabby learns about stories...


The Cycle of Life  
  
With great trepidation and pursed lips, the little golden haired girl crept  
up to the unkempt door. She had heard all sorts of stories about the crazy  
old man who lived inside. He killed small boys who picked their noses, ate  
children who refused to clean up and, worst of all, stole the faces of  
young blond girls who refused to go to sleep. With her heart pounding like  
a scared rabbit, she knocked on the door and without waiting, spun around  
to leave. There was a creak and the old door opened. She turned with wide  
green eyes and stared up at the old man in horror. He had gnarled fingers  
which grasped a twisted stick, a wrinkled face with deep set eyes and a  
long eagle nose. Gabrielle was hit with a rotten smell from his house and  
she wrinkled her nose in protest.  
  
"Euugh," she whined and then, realising what she had said, slapped a small  
hand over her open mouth.  
  
"What are you doing here?" snapped the old man.  
  
"My mummy said that you might be ill and that I should come see," she  
spluttered, lowering her hand. She looked down at her feet and clenched her  
fists into tiny balls at her side.  
  
"Hmmm, you'd better come in," said Titus, disappearing into the evil  
smelling darkness.  
  
Gabrielle peered in at the doorway. Her curiosity was getting the better of  
her and she so desperately wanted to see if the old man had a pot full of  
bubbling boys over the fire. The smell offended her but as her eyes began  
to adjust to the darkness, she stepped into the tiny hut and politely  
closed the door behind her.  
  
The old man was pouring a goblet of something for her. It was bound to be  
poison, fetloch maybe or perhaps knight's pain. Either way, she was not  
going to drink it. She scratched her bottom uncomfortably and pulled her  
panties from between her buttocks.  
  
"Come in, come in," Titus said, gesturing at her to sit down by the fire.  
He handed her the goblet of poison. He was obviously a great magician  
because the poison looked just like water. Gabrielle walked slowly toward  
the big pot by the fire. She stood staring at it.  
  
"Do you kill girls too or just boys?" she asked staring at the bubbling  
liquid inside the cauldron.  
  
He smiled behind her.  
  
"Oh yes," he said quietly, "but only if they haven't been good."  
  
"I'm a good girl," Gabrielle spurted, "ask anyone, I'm real good. It's my  
sister who is bad, Lila. I'm good, ask Perdicus's mother," she finished, as  
if that was incontrovertible evidence in the case for the defense. She  
stood on tiptoes and peered into the pot. The old man's clothes were  
boiling away in it. She sank back a little disappointed.  
  
"I know," Titus agreed kindly, slowly lowering himself into the only chair  
in the room with a heavy groan of effort. He gently placed his stick by the  
fire and rested his ancient hands in his lap. Gabrielle looked around the  
hut. It was dark and a little dirty. Old curtains hung like a shroud at the  
window and a rug, curled with age, provided the only comfort in the small  
room. By one wall was a pedestal and on top of that was the bust of a  
beautiful woman. With her curiosity getting the better of her and her  
initial fears melting away, Gabrielle ran over to the pedestal.  
  
"Who is this lady?" she said reaching for the statuette.  
  
"DON'T TOUCH THAT," shouted Titus. The great effort caused him to collapse  
into a fit of coughing. Gabrielle pulled her hand back and began to cry,  
silent tears running down her pretty, muddy face. Titus looked up and  
sighed deeply. He pulled himself out of the chair and hobbled over to the  
pedestal. Gabrielle watched him, afraid of what he might do. He reached  
over her head, took hold of the bust and handed it to Gabrielle.  
  
"Go on," he offered, "you take it".  
  
Tentatively she took the heavy statue and held it in both arms. She stared  
at it.  
  
"Who is she?" she asked.  
  
"That was my wife," Titus replied making his way back to his chair.  
  
"Is she dead, did you kill her?" she asked excitedly.  
  
"No," he sighed, "she isn't dead, just gone, a long time ago, a very long  
time".  
  
Gabrielle frowned at the statue.  
  
"She's beautiful," she smiled.  
  
"Yes, " he mused, sitting down with audible strain.  
  
"Did you love her?"  
  
The old man paused a moment, he was unused to such questions.  
  
"Yes, very much Gabrielle," he replied eventually.  
  
"Did she love you?"  
  
"I think she did, yes."  
  
There was a long pause. The fire crackled loudly.  
  
"Did she hate the smell of your clothes?" asked Gabrielle, certain she now  
understood the beautiful lady's reason for leaving. Titus laughed gently.  
  
"Why did she leave then?" she persisted.  
  
"I, I honestly don't know," he replied slowly.  
  
"But you loved her and she loved you," protested the youngster, walking  
toward Titus and offering him the bust. She watched as he gently turned it  
to face him and then stroked a cheek gently with the back of one of his  
gnarled knuckles. His eyes caressed the bust.  
  
"It's hard to explain," he whispered, "sometimes it simply isn't enough."  
  
Gabrielle wrinkled her brow in confusion and stuck her bottom lip way out.  
She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to one side, her waist  
length hair hanging freely.  
  
"Sooo, what do you do in here by yourself?" she finally asked.  
  
Titus put the bust down beside the fire and then leant over in his chair.  
He reached down and pulled up a scruffy scroll.  
  
"Do you read little girl?" he asked.  
  
"Uhu," Gabrielle nodded uncertainly. She knew her runes and could read her  
'Jason and the Golden Fleece' story with the pictures but she had only been  
reading for a year and three quarters and Perdicus was a much better  
reader, but he was older.  
  
"Well, I write stories," Titus explained, handing her the scroll. She  
hesitated but he pushed it into her belly and she finally took it.  
  
"Can I keep it?" she asked in wide-eyed anticipation, clutching it to her  
chest.  
  
The old man smiled.  
  
  
  
Gabrielle's mother waved at Titus who smiled back. Titus had always been a  
hard old man, independent and abrupt but recently he had been much  
friendlier. He had commented on Gabrielle and how bright she seemed. He had  
pestered for her to be sent round to his house and finally Gabrielle's  
mother had relented.  
  
Now, as she watched her daughter run across the muddy courtyard and out of  
the village gate, presumably to her favourite spot by the river, she was  
glad she had. The little girl was smiling broadly and carrying a scroll as  
if it were a precious vase. For a moment she saw Titus smiling, then he  
collapsed into the street and lay very still.  
  
  
  
  
  
By the river, Gabrielle, laid in the long green grass, opened her scroll  
slowly and carefully. Her tongue popped out of her mouth with concentration  
as she began to read it slowly.  
  
"The…Warrior…and…the…Bard," she began.  
  
It was long after dark before she finally went home.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
